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Thursday, November 24, 2016

Thursday Tasters is just a tidbit from each of our work-in-progress projects. Today I thought I would give you a little excerpt from my Healing Hearts. You can read the excerpts from the other participating authors here or they are listed below like beautiful life changing moments.Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜﾚo√乇 ¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°♥

Blurb:

Brianna Denton walked the night and crawled the pubs searching for her sister’s murderer. Drugs and alcohol drove her twin to prostitution in the shadows and rat holes of the underbelly of North Beach society. Brianna lived her sister’s life on the tight edge of the raw reality until she pushed someone too hard, too fast.

Tatianna’s life drew Brianna into the bowels of the dark underground society, but to who’s destiny—her own or Tatianna’s?

Someone wanted her dead too.

He’d seen her on the streets, in the flea bag bars and pool halls the midnight scum frequented. She fascinated him with her Mediterranean beauty and her disdain. She was fast, unapologetic, but her curves were slow and yielding. He ached for her until one night slithered into the wee hours of the early morning at Blu’s Balls. The smoke in the pool hall hung in the air like a noose from the ceiling.

She wanted a bath but she wanted the blond-haired, blue-eyed man with the heart-shaped face and the gentle mouth more, first.

Dr Ben James recognized Brianna immediately when the EMT’s brought her into his ER. He hadn’t seen her since that night—the night she picked him.

Can he save her life? If he can’t, can he forget her?

Excerpt:

If Brianna remembered, she showed them Tatianna’s photograph
and asked if they’d ever met or seen her. If they had, it was sure they’d
fucked her so there was little reason to ask them that. Sometimes she forgot to
show them the photograph. It was those times she asked herself what was she really doing out here if she wasn’t
looking for her sister’s killer?

She liked the seedy, smoke-filled pool halls and honky-tonks
where there was a foregone conclusion that the women who frequented joints like
that were looking for “joints”, medicinal or meaty, of their own. She was no
different and the joints she favored were prolific. Someday, one of them would
be attached to Mr. Right maybe, but until then, there were plenty to keep her
busy enough to feed her demons—and fight her sister’s battles.

But, if she wasn’t chasing her sister’s killer, what was she
doing? Her sister brought her out here, onto the cold heartless streets of
despair, just like she pulled the cops into the sordid peep show that was her
life. If they couldn’t find Tatianna’s murderer, why did she think she could?
Maybe, the loss of her sister, her twin, was just the excuse she needed to find
herself while searching for the answers in Tatianna’s life. Tatianna, poor Tatianna…When
she grieved for Tatianna, she mourned for herself as well. They were both dead,
in one way or another.

She lost sight of her purpose as she fell, tumbled—out of
control—into the depths of her own personal Hell.

She rarely went to the same place night after night. She
preferred to dot her sordid experiences in the arms of new men, occasionally a
repeat, but she would never find Mr. Destiny or Mr. Murder if she kept
repeating the same mistakes and the same creeps.

It actually seemed like a good plan. Last night it was The
Bitter End, a real cesspool where the beer was warm and the women were cold,
but everyone played great stick and didn’t ask questions.

She
wondered briefly how long before tempting Lady Fate looking for Mr. Right in an
ocean of Mr. Wrongs would result in her own bitter end.

Tonight
she planned on going to Baby Blu’s Sticks & Balls. Everyone called it Blu
Balls…for a reason, she surmised. She had seen her share of blue balls in the
past—plenty of them. She had been the source of inspiration for them.

She
smiled to herself, straightened her skirt before pushing the door open. The
place was hopping and it was so smoke-filled, her eyes instantly teared. Why
these places always stank of piss and sweat never ceased to amaze her. She wore
leather all the time because the fabric never absorbed any of the odors and the
clinging crap that floated in the air or stuck to the barstools around the bar.
When she was done, she didn’t want to smell, see, or feel any evidence of her
descent into the bowels of city nightlife. She told herself she was doing it for
her sister and would leave it with her, in the dark, when she headed back to
her apartment each night. It was what it was; she didn’t want to take it home
with her.

She left
it all on the streets her sister loved, shrouded in the nights her sister
sought.

She
walked into Blu Balls with her cue case, thigh high boots and attitude. The
tables were cracking and as expected, he was there. He was there every time she
showed up. She really wondered if he had a life, or if he was just waiting his
turn, but then why would she? Why would she wonder—them’s not the rules. It was
none of her business and she really didn’t care. But, she’d caught him watching
her on several occasions. He watched her from the dark recesses of the smoke-filled
saloon. With the crack of slapping balls and sticks as noisy as monkeys with
tambourines and drumsticks as a backdrop, he watched as she picked the lucky man
for her night. He always watched. He always waited. Hell, maybe he was her Mr. Right
or Mr. Murder. She looked over at him, with confidence oozing from her every
pore, full-faced, proud. No one ever turned her down. He wouldn’t either. She
didn’t care what he was.

Tonight,
it would be him—the black-haired blue-eyed hunk of honeyed sex with the heart-shaped
baby face.She
wondered if he ever fucked her sister.

4 comments
:

This story has greatly improved from the rough draft I had previously read. It flows very smooth. The descriptions are ever so more moving. I love the image this line describes. You have illustrated the background precisely and accurately. "With the crack of slapping balls and sticks as noisy as monkeys with tambourines and drumsticks as a backdrop,.."